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"We have to.. what?" France asked disbelievingly. His boss, King Philip, repeated: "You and England have to stay in a bed with each other for one night." England scowled and crossed his arms.
"No way am I staying with that frog face!" he protested. Now his boss, King Richard, spoke in a commanding tone. "It is to represent the unity of our two countries. You two shall. Discussion is over." And with that, the two kings left, leaving the nations alone in the bedroom.

---

England muttered in Old English, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Can't believe we have to do this.." The younger teen glanced over at France, and snapped, "It's all your stupid fault, frog!"

France merely rolled his eyes and lied down on his side of the bed, placing his arms behind his head. "Just be quiet, rosbif. It's not like I want to do this either."
Arthur sighed and turned on his side, presenting his back to Francis. "Whatever. Just keep your hands to yourself."

And the next thing he knew, arms wrapped around his waist and France was spooning into him. The Frenchman leaned forward, breathing into the Englishman's ear. "What were you saying, Angleterre?" The way he rolled England's French name sent shivers down the Briton's spine.

"A-ah.." Arthur cursed inwardly at himself for blushing and not being able to keep his breathing steady. "G-go away! That's what!"

France laughed throatily, pulling away--before flipping England over on his stomach and rubbing against him. The Frenchman ran a lithe hand up the Briton's side, leaning down. "Arthur."

England gasped at the feeling of France leaning against him, screwing his eyes shut at the feeling of the hand. "... Frog face!" Of course, the insult sounded weak in Arthur's current position.

France just sighed, shaking his head in a faux sad way. "Poor Angleterre. You are acting like a young blushing virgin." Then he grinned wickedly, slowly dragging his tongue behind England's ear. "But, then again, you are, aren't you?"

England couldn't hold back a moan, and a rather deep one it was. Behind his ear-and the small of his back-were the spots nearly as sensitive as his prostate. He buried his face in the pillow, blushing deeply. "Id-idiot, I've done this before! Don't think I haven't!" In his mind, though, he was thinking, What exactly does that frog face mean? Done what before?

That made France pause for a moment, and when he spoke, it was in a tone underlined with disappointment. "Well, then, if you've already been eaten, then at least let me taste you."

"Wh-wha-" England was cut off when France pulled up his tunic--more like a dress than anything--and started kissing down his back. The Briton bit his lip to keep from moaning, instead just blushing heavier. What is he doing? Why does it feel.. so.. good?

And that's when France reached the small of his back, and started nibbling there, abusing that sole spot until it was red. Arthur gasped, letting out a wanton moan, trembling as pleasure coarsed through his body. "Fr-Francis!" When the Frenchman didn't stop, instead just sucking harder, England moaned unabashedly, bucking his hips instinctively. He buried his face in the pillow again, biting down this time on it.

France pulled up, his own breathing ragged. "Ah, Angleterre, don't hide from me.." He flipped the Briton over again, this time on his back, and pulled off the tunic, tossing it aside. He admired the Briton's slender body, letting his hand travel down the other's side.

Arthur widened his eyes, covering his face with his hands. He wasn't used to this side of France, and yet, why did he like it so much? "D-don't.." he mumbled. "Stop."

France arched an eyebrow, teasingly brushing his hand across England's quite noticeable erection. "Don't stop~?" he purred. "Oh, I think we'll have no problem with that." England let out a squeak, thrusting into France's hand as a reflex. "N-no, that's not what I- HAH!"

At that moment, France had leaned down and taken the Englishman by mouth. He started sucking, letting his tongue flick out to lap up the pre-cum leaking already. The Frenchman let his hands travel up, teasingly flicking over England's nubs. The Briton arched his back, letting out a keening moan. "Nn-- Fr-Fran.." He bucked his hips, tangling his hands in the sheets.

France hummed, sending vibrations up England's member and shivers down the other's spine. Easing a little more in his throat, he let his tongue drift over the sensitive tip, sucking harder. He had to place his hands on England's hips to stop him from bucking, spreading out the other's legs farther.

England whimpered, tightness becoming unbearable in his stomach. He let one hand tangle in France's hair, tugging harshly. France hissed, though that just made him become more intent on making the Englishman come. He started licking again, bobbing his head up and down.

"A-ah! Fran-Francis!" England cried out, shooting his semen down France's throat and falling back on the bed, trying to steady his breathing.

France let out a pleased noise, swallowing the rest of England's cum and pulling away with a pop. He looked down at the Briton, who was currently looking up at him with hazy emerald eyes and a very cute blush on his cheeks. The Frenchman frowned then. "The way you're acting, it really does make it seem like you haven't done this before."

Arthur covered his face again, that look France gave him making his heart ache. He understood what France meant now, what men and women do at night. And they do it out of love, unless they were like his bosses. Then it's just because they wanted to make a child. France most certainly did not love him, nor could they have a child together, so what was his motives for doing this?

Arthur would never admit it, but he had hidden feelings for the Frenchman, and he knew that continuing this little act would just hurt himself more than anything. So he decided to lie. "Y-you idiot, obviously I have, otherwise I would have stopped you!" It sounded weak, even to him.

France pulled England's arms away from the other's face and kissed him gently, pulling him up to his chest. "Angleterre," he murmured into the kiss, "tu est mignon. Tu est mon amour, et Je t'aime." England's eyes widened again, for, despite saying he hated the French language, he honestly loved it and knew how to speak it. Just not old French. But what France just told him..

"France.. Ic lufu eoaw, and I have for a while," he admitted. France smiled softly, that one smile causing England's cheeks to heat up again. They kissed again, England opening his mouth to allow France access. The Frenchman wasted no time in sliding his tongue inside the Briton's mouth and twisting around with the other's tongue. They fell on the bed together, France pulling England's arms above him.

England moaned softly into the kiss, twisting his tongue with France's and savouring the taste of the Frenchman. Francis took that opportunity to grind his hips down onto Arthur's, causing the smaller nation to gasp in shock. Hips bucking, Arthur tangled his hand in Francis's hair, angling his head for a deeper kiss.

France pulled away after a moment, a trail of salivia still connecting the two. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, calming his breathing. "Arthur.. s'il vous plait, be honest with me. Is this your first time or not?"

The Briton blinked, before casting his gaze down. He vaguely remembered that he was completely naked, and France hadn't even taken off his shirt, but he honestly didn't care right then. He responded to France's question in a mumble: "It's my first time... But that's not bad, is it?!"

France beamed, nuzzling the Briton's neck. "Ah, non, non, of course it's not bad! It makes me very happy!" He quickly kissed England before pressing three fingers to the other's mouth. "Suck," he commanded softly.

Arthur looked confused, but did as told: taking France's fingers, he put them in his mouth and gently sucked, tongue slipping between them. France made a small sound of unmistakable pleasure, and England blushed as he heard it. After Francis deemed his fingers slick enough, he pulled them away and then slipped his hand down towards England's entrance.

"Are you ready, mon amant?" he asked, kissing England's forehead. When Arthur nodded slowly, shyly, the Frenchman pushed one finger into the other's entrance while leaving a trail of distracting kisses upon the other's neck.

England whimpered quietly at the discomfort of being penetrated, and focused on France's kisses, running his hand through the other's hair. Then the second finger slipped in, and France started scissoring the Briton. "Nn.. you're so tight, Arthur.." He bit his lip at the thought of being in that tight, silky heat soon. Arthur screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to relax. "I-it hurts, France.." he whispered; admitting something was hurting him was one thing he forced himself not to do.

France nodded, murmuring soothing words in French. "It will get better, mon Angleterre, don't worry.. I promise.." He added the third finger, even though two fingers barely fit. He didn't want to cause his Briton any more pain than was necessary, and so dedicated himself to finding that one spot..

Where is it, where is it..

Arthur whimpered again, tears leaking out of his eyes slowly. "It's not getting better, Fr-Francis, you promised!" He forced himself to relax even more, taking a deep breath. France winced at hearing England in pain, and finally crooked his fingers and slammed into Arthur's little sweet spot.

"M-marry!" Arthur cried out, the pleasure overriding the pain. "Ah, Francis!" France nodded, and started thrusting his fingers, slamming again and again into the Briton's prostate. England rocked his hips to meet with France's thrusts, letting out moans every time they connected. It was pleasure like he had never felt before, and all he wanted was more of it. More of the thrusting, more of the pleasure, more of Francis.

He didn't think anything could be better than this, and that's when France pulled away. The Briton whined at the loss, his breathing ragged. "Mm, France.." he breathed softly, trembling and needy already. France took one look at England's face and then shed himself of his clothes-finally, is what Arthur thought as he took in the sight of Francis.. his old rival, that one idiot who kept annoying him, his secret love.. And he was beautiful, so beautiful it made his heart ache.

What would Francis, this amazing person, want with him? He was a nobody, just a little country. And yet, one of the happiest people on earth at that moment.

Arthur was yanked out of his thoughts when Francis positioned himself, his member poking at the Briton's entrance. "Mon amour, tell me if it hurts too much, d'accord?" The Frenchman seemed worried, and England made a face. "I'm bloody Arthur Kirkland, I can withstand anything!" he protested.

France laughed, leaning down and pecking England's lips. "Of course, big brother forgot," he murmured in an amused tone, before pushing himself in Arthur's entrance. Biting his lip in pleasure, the Frenchman slowly eased himself in, placing one hand on the sheets to steady himself. Arthur had an arm over his face, biting his lip in pain. "J-just a second, Francis, wait.."

The Frenchman nodded, though he hoped the other adjusted soon; he just wanted to ram himself in the silky heat, but told himself to wait. Arthur took a deep breath, pain threading through the pleasure, before nodding slowly. "R-right, you can move now."

Francis looked down at Arthur carefully, pulling almost all the way out, before slamming right back in against England's prostate. The Briton gasped, arching his back. "H-hah!" Francis leaned down, sliding his arms behind Arthur's back and holding him close as he continued thrusting deeply. All England managed to do was wrap his arms around the Frenchman's neck and his legs around the Frenchman's waist and hold on, moaning wantonly at the deep thrusts. He rocked his hips to match France's, and they got a good rhythm going on. No one knew quite who the moans belonged to as they picked up their rhythm; all England could tell was that France was amazing, so absolutely perfect.

"O-oh, Francis..! So.. good.." Arthur gasped as Francis thrusted harshly, ramming up against his sweet spot. The Briton dug his nails into France's shoulders, leaving angry red marks, but that merely served to turn on Francis even more. The Frenchman kissed Arthur roughly, messily, swallowing up the Briton's moans and gasps. He kept thrusting deeper, more roughly, not allowing England to come to grips with the pleasure now eating him inside and out. Again, tightness started building in England's stomach, but he didn't want to come. Not when this was so perfect, so absolutely mindblowing..

He pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air. "Nn, Fran- I'm s-so close!" Another rough thrust- "Ah, stop..!" A deep, harsh thrust- "Francis!" England literally screamed out the Frenchman's human name as he finally came hard, coating their stomachs with sticky sperm, his vision turning white. The tight walls of England clamped down on France's member, and the Frenchman bit down on Arthur's neck to stifle a satisfied moan as he came as well. Arthur whimpered as he felt hot cum fill himself, and then pulled Francis up for another, more gentle, kiss.

France kissed back softly, before sliding out of England. It was impossible to ignore the sound of discontent once he did so from the Briton, and Arthur pouted slightly. Francis managed a breathless laugh, before collapsing on his side and tugging England close. Arthur sighed in comfort, curling against his love and closing his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "You stupid frog," he mumbled, "I can't believe you made me do that. If I'm limping tomorrow, I'm blaming you." "Ah.. Je t'aime aussi, Angleterre~" Francis nuzzled Arthur's forehead, smiling softly as the Briton fell asleep in his arms. And that was how their bosses found them the next morning.

--

France and England still remember that one night, though neither of them ever bring it up. Both are too proud to admit that once upon a time, they loved each other very much, and they still do. They just keep the memory to theirselves, though sometimes in a passing glance, they realise that the other still remembers it. England is more affected by that night than France is, because that was the night he lost his virginity.. and after that, their long history of war began.

Description
"We have to.. what?" France asked disbelievingly. His boss, King Philip, repeated: "You and England have to stay in a bed with each other for one night." England scowled and crossed his arms.
"No way am I staying with that frog face!" he protested. Now his boss, King Richard, spoke in a commanding tone. "It is to represent the unity of our two countries. You two shall. Discussion is over." And with that, the two kings left, leaving the nations alone in the bedroom.

---

England muttered in Old English, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Can't believe we have to do this.." The younger teen glanced over at France, and snapped, "It's all your stupid fault, frog!"

France merely rolled his eyes and lied down on his side of the bed, placing his arms behind his head. "Just be quiet, rosbif. It's not like I want to do this either."
Arthur sighed and turned on his side, presenting his back to Francis. "Whatever. Just keep your hands to yourself."

And the next thing he knew, arms wrapped around his waist and France was spooning into him. The Frenchman leaned forward, breathing into the Englishman's ear. "What were you saying, Angleterre?" The way he rolled England's French name sent shivers down the Briton's spine.

"A-ah.." Arthur cursed inwardly at himself for blushing and not being able to keep his breathing steady. "G-go away! That's what!"

France laughed throatily, pulling away--before flipping England over on his stomach and rubbing against him. The Frenchman ran a lithe hand up the Briton's side, leaning down. "Arthur."

England gasped at the feeling of France leaning against him, screwing his eyes shut at the feeling of the hand. "... Frog face!" Of course, the insult sounded weak in Arthur's current position.

France just sighed, shaking his head in a faux sad way. "Poor Angleterre. You are acting like a young blushing virgin." Then he grinned wickedly, slowly dragging his tongue behind England's ear. "But, then again, you are, aren't you?"

England couldn't hold back a moan, and a rather deep one it was. Behind his ear-and the small of his back-were the spots nearly as sensitive as his prostate. He buried his face in the pillow, blushing deeply. "Id-idiot, I've done this before! Don't think I haven't!" In his mind, though, he was thinking, What exactly does that frog face mean? Done what before?

That made France pause for a moment, and when he spoke, it was in a tone underlined with disappointment. "Well, then, if you've already been eaten, then at least let me taste you."

"Wh-wha-" England was cut off when France pulled up his tunic--more like a dress than anything--and started kissing down his back. The Briton bit his lip to keep from moaning, instead just blushing heavier. What is he doing? Why does it feel.. so.. good?

And that's when France reached the small of his back, and started nibbling there, abusing that sole spot until it was red. Arthur gasped, letting out a wanton moan, trembling as pleasure coarsed through his body. "Fr-Francis!" When the Frenchman didn't stop, instead just sucking harder, England moaned unabashedly, bucking his hips instinctively. He buried his face in the pillow again, biting down this time on it.

France pulled up, his own breathing ragged. "Ah, Angleterre, don't hide from me.." He flipped the Briton over again, this time on his back, and pulled off the tunic, tossing it aside. He admired the Briton's slender body, letting his hand travel down the other's side.

Arthur widened his eyes, covering his face with his hands. He wasn't used to this side of France, and yet, why did he like it so much? "D-don't.." he mumbled. "Stop."

France arched an eyebrow, teasingly brushing his hand across England's quite noticeable erection. "Don't stop~?" he purred. "Oh, I think we'll have no problem with that." England let out a squeak, thrusting into France's hand as a reflex. "N-no, that's not what I- HAH!"

At that moment, France had leaned down and taken the Englishman by mouth. He started sucking, letting his tongue flick out to lap up the pre-cum leaking already. The Frenchman let his hands travel up, teasingly flicking over England's nubs. The Briton arched his back, letting out a keening moan. "Nn-- Fr-Fran.." He bucked his hips, tangling his hands in the sheets.

France hummed, sending vibrations up England's member and shivers down the other's spine. Easing a little more in his throat, he let his tongue drift over the sensitive tip, sucking harder. He had to place his hands on England's hips to stop him from bucking, spreading out the other's legs farther.

England whimpered, tightness becoming unbearable in his stomach. He let one hand tangle in France's hair, tugging harshly. France hissed, though that just made him become more intent on making the Englishman come. He started licking again, bobbing his head up and down.

"A-ah! Fran-Francis!" England cried out, shooting his semen down France's throat and falling back on the bed, trying to steady his breathing.

France let out a pleased noise, swallowing the rest of England's cum and pulling away with a pop. He looked down at the Briton, who was currently looking up at him with hazy emerald eyes and a very cute blush on his cheeks. The Frenchman frowned then. "The way you're acting, it really does make it seem like you haven't done this before."

Arthur covered his face again, that look France gave him making his heart ache. He understood what France meant now, what men and women do at night. And they do it out of love, unless they were like his bosses. Then it's just because they wanted to make a child. France most certainly did not love him, nor could they have a child together, so what was his motives for doing this?

Arthur would never admit it, but he had hidden feelings for the Frenchman, and he knew that continuing this little act would just hurt himself more than anything. So he decided to lie. "Y-you idiot, obviously I have, otherwise I would have stopped you!" It sounded weak, even to him.

France pulled England's arms away from the other's face and kissed him gently, pulling him up to his chest. "Angleterre," he murmured into the kiss, "tu est mignon. Tu est mon amour, et Je t'aime." England's eyes widened again, for, despite saying he hated the French language, he honestly loved it and knew how to speak it. Just not old French. But what France just told him..

"France.. Ic lufu eoaw, and I have for a while," he admitted. France smiled softly, that one smile causing England's cheeks to heat up again. They kissed again, England opening his mouth to allow France access. The Frenchman wasted no time in sliding his tongue inside the Briton's mouth and twisting around with the other's tongue. They fell on the bed together, France pulling England's arms above him.

England moaned softly into the kiss, twisting his tongue with France's and savouring the taste of the Frenchman. Francis took that opportunity to grind his hips down onto Arthur's, causing the smaller nation to gasp in shock. Hips bucking, Arthur tangled his hand in Francis's hair, angling his head for a deeper kiss.

France pulled away after a moment, a trail of salivia still connecting the two. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, calming his breathing. "Arthur.. s'il vous plait, be honest with me. Is this your first time or not?"

The Briton blinked, before casting his gaze down. He vaguely remembered that he was completely naked, and France hadn't even taken off his shirt, but he honestly didn't care right then. He responded to France's question in a mumble: "It's my first time... But that's not bad, is it?!"

France beamed, nuzzling the Briton's neck. "Ah, non, non, of course it's not bad! It makes me very happy!" He quickly kissed England before pressing three fingers to the other's mouth. "Suck," he commanded softly.

Arthur looked confused, but did as told: taking France's fingers, he put them in his mouth and gently sucked, tongue slipping between them. France made a small sound of unmistakable pleasure, and England blushed as he heard it. After Francis deemed his fingers slick enough, he pulled them away and then slipped his hand down towards England's entrance.

"Are you ready, mon amant?" he asked, kissing England's forehead. When Arthur nodded slowly, shyly, the Frenchman pushed one finger into the other's entrance while leaving a trail of distracting kisses upon the other's neck.

England whimpered quietly at the discomfort of being penetrated, and focused on France's kisses, running his hand through the other's hair. Then the second finger slipped in, and France started scissoring the Briton. "Nn.. you're so tight, Arthur.." He bit his lip at the thought of being in that tight, silky heat soon. Arthur screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself to relax. "I-it hurts, France.." he whispered; admitting something was hurting him was one thing he forced himself not to do.

France nodded, murmuring soothing words in French. "It will get better, mon Angleterre, don't worry.. I promise.." He added the third finger, even though two fingers barely fit. He didn't want to cause his Briton any more pain than was necessary, and so dedicated himself to finding that one spot..

Where is it, where is it..

Arthur whimpered again, tears leaking out of his eyes slowly. "It's not getting better, Fr-Francis, you promised!" He forced himself to relax even more, taking a deep breath. France winced at hearing England in pain, and finally crooked his fingers and slammed into Arthur's little sweet spot.

"M-marry!" Arthur cried out, the pleasure overriding the pain. "Ah, Francis!" France nodded, and started thrusting his fingers, slamming again and again into the Briton's prostate. England rocked his hips to meet with France's thrusts, letting out moans every time they connected. It was pleasure like he had never felt before, and all he wanted was more of it. More of the thrusting, more of the pleasure, more of Francis.

He didn't think anything could be better than this, and that's when France pulled away. The Briton whined at the loss, his breathing ragged. "Mm, France.." he breathed softly, trembling and needy already. France took one look at England's face and then shed himself of his clothes-finally, is what Arthur thought as he took in the sight of Francis.. his old rival, that one idiot who kept annoying him, his secret love.. And he was beautiful, so beautiful it made his heart ache.

What would Francis, this amazing person, want with him? He was a nobody, just a little country. And yet, one of the happiest people on earth at that moment.

Arthur was yanked out of his thoughts when Francis positioned himself, his member poking at the Briton's entrance. "Mon amour, tell me if it hurts too much, d'accord?" The Frenchman seemed worried, and England made a face. "I'm bloody Arthur Kirkland, I can withstand anything!" he protested.

France laughed, leaning down and pecking England's lips. "Of course, big brother forgot," he murmured in an amused tone, before pushing himself in Arthur's entrance. Biting his lip in pleasure, the Frenchman slowly eased himself in, placing one hand on the sheets to steady himself. Arthur had an arm over his face, biting his lip in pain. "J-just a second, Francis, wait.."

The Frenchman nodded, though he hoped the other adjusted soon; he just wanted to ram himself in the silky heat, but told himself to wait. Arthur took a deep breath, pain threading through the pleasure, before nodding slowly. "R-right, you can move now."

Francis looked down at Arthur carefully, pulling almost all the way out, before slamming right back in against England's prostate. The Briton gasped, arching his back. "H-hah!" Francis leaned down, sliding his arms behind Arthur's back and holding him close as he continued thrusting deeply. All England managed to do was wrap his arms around the Frenchman's neck and his legs around the Frenchman's waist and hold on, moaning wantonly at the deep thrusts. He rocked his hips to match France's, and they got a good rhythm going on. No one knew quite who the moans belonged to as they picked up their rhythm; all England could tell was that France was amazing, so absolutely perfect.

"O-oh, Francis..! So.. good.." Arthur gasped as Francis thrusted harshly, ramming up against his sweet spot. The Briton dug his nails into France's shoulders, leaving angry red marks, but that merely served to turn on Francis even more. The Frenchman kissed Arthur roughly, messily, swallowing up the Briton's moans and gasps. He kept thrusting deeper, more roughly, not allowing England to come to grips with the pleasure now eating him inside and out. Again, tightness started building in England's stomach, but he didn't want to come. Not when this was so perfect, so absolutely mindblowing..

He pulled away from the kiss, gasping for air. "Nn, Fran- I'm s-so close!" Another rough thrust- "Ah, stop..!" A deep, harsh thrust- "Francis!" England literally screamed out the Frenchman's human name as he finally came hard, coating their stomachs with sticky sperm, his vision turning white. The tight walls of England clamped down on France's member, and the Frenchman bit down on Arthur's neck to stifle a satisfied moan as he came as well. Arthur whimpered as he felt hot cum fill himself, and then pulled Francis up for another, more gentle, kiss.

France kissed back softly, before sliding out of England. It was impossible to ignore the sound of discontent once he did so from the Briton, and Arthur pouted slightly. Francis managed a breathless laugh, before collapsing on his side and tugging England close. Arthur sighed in comfort, curling against his love and closing his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "You stupid frog," he mumbled, "I can't believe you made me do that. If I'm limping tomorrow, I'm blaming you." "Ah.. Je t'aime aussi, Angleterre~" Francis nuzzled Arthur's forehead, smiling softly as the Briton fell asleep in his arms. And that was how their bosses found them the next morning.

--

France and England still remember that one night, though neither of them ever bring it up. Both are too proud to admit that once upon a time, they loved each other very much, and they still do. They just keep the memory to theirselves, though sometimes in a passing glance, they realise that the other still remembers it. England is more affected by that night than France is, because that was the night he lost his virginity.. and after that, their long history of war began.